Bridget Jones's Diary
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Starring: Renee Zellweger, Hugh Grant, Colin Firth, Jim Broadbent, Gemma Jones


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Let me get one thing straight here. Despite what you may have heard about the "daring to gain weight" stunning thespian achievement of Renee Zellweger here and the constant references to how "chunky," "chubby" or "plump" she became for this role, nobody to whom those words actually apply can fill out a Playboy bunny costume as well as she does in this film. THIS IS NOT WHAT "FAT" MEANS, HOLLYWOOD. Dom DeLuise is what fat means. Get the fuck over yourselves.

That said, I actually kinda liked this movie. I avoided its theatrical release because it looked like drivel, but I saw it on video after Renee was nominated for the Oscar, and since I've had some odd thing for her (not entirely a crush, but some sort of visceral positivity), I figured it wouldn't be all bad, even if she was cast in the role as a pure marketing decision. I mean, c'mon, there ARE British actresses floating around somewhere that could play Bridget Jones. I know I've heard them chirping about to and fro, here and there, hither and yon. What, ho!

Anyway, Bridget Jones is apparently a "single everywoman" in Britain that starts to keep a diary and 'take control of her life,' although this seems to consist of messing around with her boss and fostering an unhealthy fear of being alone. While it's entirely obvious at all times that Hugh Grant's character is going to be the sleazy, undeserving-of-her cad, he makes it somewhat appealing anyway. I never really want to like Hugh Grant, but he makes it hard not to. Colin Firth's stiffly awkward suitor is actually a bit more appealing in his oddness.

I must say, though, that I have a bit of an issue with films that rely on humiliating their lead characters constantly to broker sympathy. I'm not exactly sure WHAT my issue is, but it's been something I've not dealt with very well for ages. I would often start pacing around (and sometimes even leave the room) during sitcoms when the potential for severe embarrassment of beloved characters became too much for me to handle. Perhaps it was because I lived much of my adolescent years in constant fear of being mortified by something or other. I suppose I've overcome that, since I'm prone to being an obnoxious dork in public these days, but I still have that reflexive wincing can't-watch feeling when a lovable lass like Renee walks into a fancy dinner party wearing tart clothes, or draws the obviously wrong conclusion to something and runs the wrong way with it, yadda yadda. I guess it's a standard reaction that shows you feel for the character, but I still don't like to be humiliated, even vicariously.

I've got issues.

By the way, shouldn't it be "Jones'" and not "Jones's"? Probably.

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